“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Weakday Wether
On a cool lilac late afternoon
high stratus pass over
aloof and sparse.
The sea shimmers silver
reflecting rosy cloud belly's,
bodies move slow and deliberate,
leaden legs with distant gazes
heavy under hanging haze
our orbit blurs the way
of Monday into grey Tuesday.
The way the moody matter may
flux and such and such a way.
January jumped on fragile February,
leaping on faith,
landing on elsewhere.
Doing days in oscillation
wether
weakly such as;
Mundayne,
Chooseway,
Mostnessday,
Hersday,
and fridaylie,
Why(not)play.
Alternately,
try,
calling each day
new instead of namely
what you always knew.
Image By Pseudopanax at en.wikipedia (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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